Brothers In Arms
by Calamitatum
Summary: It's December 19th, 1963, and for the first time in two full years, Ludwig is able to visit his brother. Just how much will either of them have changed in that time apart? (Berlin Wall fic, canon-verse.)


It's December 19th, 1963, and for the first time in two years, Ludwig is able to visit his brother.

It took seven rounds of negotiation between the Senate of Berlin and East German authorities, but finally West Berlin citizens are given the chance to visit East Berlin relatives under a very strict and limited basis.

Still, he knows it's the best he's going to get, and so when the time comes, Ludwig jumps at the opportunity. He signs all the application forms under his human name, and is more than delighted to hear news from the other side saying a man by the name of Gilbert Beilschmidt had already been sending in forms weeks in advance requesting one Ludwig Beilschmidt, under the category of his sibling, as a member of the first party being allowed access into the East.

He is accepted, and it isn't soon enough that the blue-eyed German finds himself standing anxiously amongst his citizens in an overcrowded train car traveling to the nearest East Berlin station on a bitter, cold winter morning.

The air in the car is heavy and tense as strangers stand shoulder to shoulder, feeding off of each other's nerves as they feel the steady thumping of the large metal wheels turning beneath them. The walls and floor creak with every twist of the tracks and the cold, dry air streaking by the glass of the train car's windows.

They are all different and unique in their own way – a mismatched bunch of people, all with their own stories and their own lives and their own problems and worries and fears and pains – but they share a similar destination. They are all taking the same journey, painfully hopeful with the prospect of reuniting with loved ones they have too long been kept separated from.

They are Ludwig's people, and his heart aches for each and every one of them.

Children tug on the skirts of their mothers, couples both young and old clasp hands tightly. A smartly dressed businessman gets up from his seat to make room for a watery-eyed young girl who must be at least five, perhaps six months pregnant.

Throughout it all, Ludwig stands alone in the far corner, leaning against the wall as his eyes gaze through the frosted glass, flickering in time with the scenery as it speeds by. He stays silent, deep in thought. He thinks of his people, civilians and soldiers, men and women, rich and poor. He thinks of his land, from the forested countryside to the abandoned and blood-stained military bases to the manmade wall which decides his borders and brings with it nothing but hatred and sorrow and suppression. He thinks of his nation, its history and all the mistakes and wrong doings it encompasses.

He thinks of his brother.

Ludwig soon realizes that he won't have to think for much longer, because finally, with a sigh of relief from many of the passengers, the train comes to a slow stop, the wheels hissing loudly along the frozen tracks until finally they lose the last of their momentum. The doors creak open and the West Berliners begin to file out, Ludwig politely staying back until be the last one.

When he finally steps over onto the station's platform, the first thing he does is breathe. The air is still, crisp, and so cold that it burns on the way down. It smells of engine exhaust and cigarettes, and he loves it instantly because it also smells like his brother.

Then Ludwig sees him.

He stands out from the crowd easily, what for his crimson eyes and his shock of stark white hair; and a wide grin splits the older brother's weary, shadowed face when blue meets red for the first time in over two years.

Ludwig returns it, and it's only then that he realizes just how out-of-place and unpracticed the expression feels on his normally stern, passive face. It's only then that he realizes just how much he missed smiling.

Just how much he missed Gilbert.

He moves quickly, making his way through the crowd of fumbling, overwhelmed men and women without incident, possessing a sense of certainty that they do not; because for the first time in too long of a goddamned time, Ludwig _is_ certain. If of only one thing, he is certain that Gilbert Beilschmidt is here. In one piece. Whole. Alive.

"I knew you'd show up eventually," the albino calls from his position at the edge of the crowd. "Nobody can resist my awesomeness for too long!"

Gilbert's grin only widens as the younger blond closes the distance between them, and Ludwig doesn't think he's ever been more glad to hear his brother say the word 'awesomeness' in his entire life.

Ludwig finally reaches him, and in a rare and somewhat out-of-character display of affection, he throws his arms around Gilbert and nearly suffocates him in a tight hug.

"A-Ah, whoa, West," Gilbert stumbles back beneath the momentum and weight of his eager brother but manages to catch himself in time and soon Ludwig feels him return the embrace, albeit weakly and with only a single arm. "Easy, okay?" Gilbert mumbles into his brother's shoulder, and Ludwig suddenly realizes that he's become almost half a head taller than him since they last saw each other.

Ludwig's brow creases as he loosens his grip, holding his brother by the upper arms as he steps back.

"Gilbert…" Ludwig surveys him, noticing only now that they are so much closer just how much light those once-striking ruby eyes have lost, just how hallow and gaunt his face has become, and how his heavy woolen jacket seems to hang off of his thin shoulders loosely, collarbone prominent and sticking out from beneath the fabric of his shirt more noticeably than it should.

But more concerning than anything are the scars.

Thin, pale lines run jaggedly across the former Prussian's jaw line and down his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. They're small but there are a lot of them, and that alone is plenty enough to concern Ludwig.

Dragging his eyes away from the offending blemishes, Ludwig glances back up into his brother's eyes and swallows the heavy lump in his throat. "Gilbert, you…" he struggles find words.

"Look like total shit?" Gilbert finishes for him; his earlier smile replaced now by a smaller, sadder one which tugs up at the corners of dry, cracked lips weakly. "Yeah, I know..." Gilbert shrugs it off, but Ludwig can tell it bothers him more than he's letting on.

He finally releases his brother fully and steps back. He shakes his head. "No, that's not it. It's just..."

It's then that Ludwig looks down, and for the first time notices the long, polished wooden cane wrapped tightly in Gilbert's grip. Ludwig's eyes widen and he quickly flickers them up again, mouth working but no sound coming out.

It's a walking cane.

The former Kingdom of Prussia just sighs over-exaggeratedly, twirling the cane in his gloved hands. "It's not as bad as it looks, seriously. And I don't care if you look at it either, 'cause yeah, I know, it's a little weird. The Awesome Me having to use a _handicap_?" Gilbert snorts. "It took me a while to get use to it, too."

Ludwig knows that his brother is only trying to lighten the mood with the joke, but it's hard for him to do anything other than think of how this could have even possibly happened. A couple years ago if you had told someone like Gilbert that he would end up relying on a _cane_ to get around properly, he would have politely laughed in your face and thrown you over the edge of a building, all while proclaiming his awesomeness.

He used to be so strong, so sure, so proud…

Gilbert frowns, shaking his head as if he can read the other's thoughts.

"Come on, West," he says. "You've got that look you always get when you're pitying somebody; and I don't want that shit. You know the conditions have been hard over here and yeah, maybe it's starting to take its toll on me, but _whatever_. I'm a _nation_, it's not like it's permanent." He pauses, looking his brother dead in the eye, as if searching for something. "None of this is. It'll all be over soon, okay?"

Ludwig nods. "I know." He clasps his brother's arm and pulls him in for another, more gentle hug. "I've missed you, brother."

Gilbert leans into the hug, returning it with as much strength as he can manage in his current state. "Missed you too, West." And then, "Besides, the cane's not so bad. People let me cross the street and get in line before them, and they open doors for me and everything. Plus, if an old lady gets in my way at the supermarket I can hit her in the shins and pretend it was an accident."

Ludwig feels his chest shaking lightly against his brother's, and it actually takes him a moment to realize that he's laughing.

* * *

**AN: This is just a short little drabble I wrote a while back on an old laptop of mine. I was pleasantly surprised to find it floating around my documents today and so I decided to touch it up a bit before posting it here. There was some more after this, but it didn't have an ending, so I figured I'd just cut it off here instead. Now, I don't normally write these characters (or in this style) so any constructive criticism you guys have would be extremely welcomed.**

**Anyways, I hope you guys liked it.**

**Disclaimer: Nope. Hetalia still doesn't belong to me, no matter how much I yearn for it.**


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